


Six Things

by OuyangDan



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 05:46:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OuyangDan/pseuds/OuyangDan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a giftfic I wrote for the Valentines Day exchange on Tumblr for Signcherie. Extremely NSFW, and possibly NSFL, as I have never written femslash before, and I don't frequently write smut. This was a lot of fun! Enjoy!</p>
<p>Thank you to Solitae, Sagacious Rage, and Aithne for all their help!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SignCherie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SignCherie/gifts).



Bethany isn't sure what is in the glass that has been set in front of her. She lifts it to her nose and takes a delicate sniff of the contents, immediately regretting this decision. It's strong enough that she's pretty certain that she can get good and drunk just inhaling that smell.

"If you smell it, you'll never get it down, kitten," Isabela leans a chin on her shoulder and reaches for her own glass. For that brief moment, Bethany can feel her pressed against her back and she flushes over the glass, grateful that she can't see her face.

She's been thinking about that thing that Bela said earlier in the week. She's turned it over in her head several times, trying to filter out the hidden meaning that she's missed. It's taken her a few days to finally works up the courage to ask her.

"Isabela," she tentatively broaches the subject, her cheeks already hot.

The woman leans her cheek on a fist and looks at her, eyes flickering slightly to somewhere that Bethany doesn't quite catch, but it blooms heat in her stomach that blossoms outward.

"Yes, sweet thing?"

Bethany drinks the whole of the glass in a single gulp, the smell of anise assaulting her nose as the spirits hit her stomach and make her limbs feel warm and heavy in a matter of a few moments.

She takes a deep breath and knows she is blushing before she ever gets the words out.

"What, exactly, are the six things a woman is good for?"

The grin that spreads over the pirate's face reminds Bethany of an unrepentant fox caught in a henhouse.

"That, sweetness, is not something that can be summed up. It requires a … rather lengthy explanation." She tosses her own glass back, and sets it on the table, standing. "Shall we discuss it in detail?"

~oOo~

Bethany's hair spills across her pillow, her arm draped across it, heaving slightly and trying to catch her breath.

"Easy there, sweet thing," Bela purrs as she drags her fingers along the smooth skin of where her arse and thigh meet, cupping a buttock firmly. "That's only two, we have four left to go." She grins with a hint of mischief in her golden brown eyes and leans her cheek gently upon Bethany's thigh.

"Two?" she sucks in a soft breath with the word and nearly coughs over a giggle. "I only counted one." Her smile is sweetness mixed with a hint of the shyness that Bela finds so adorable. It's the kind of thing you could spread on toast and suckle from your fingers even before breakfast.

Isabela brushes swarthy fingers along creamy skin as she moves up to covering Bethany's body with her own, positioning one knee between both of the young mage's. Her breath is hot in her ear, and she presses her thigh gently against her where she is already damp, teasing her with the slight and natural pressure.

"Trust me, sweet thing, it was two." She is gentle with her, which has surprised Bethany at first. That could also have been the timid side of her that has long admired the pirate from afar. The shyness that kept her from ever taking more liberty than a stolen glace or lingering eyes over the fullness of her round backside under the shift she wears.

The confident gait, the way she holds herself tall, the curve of her back and the swell of her breasts, the way she doesn't merely walk anywhere, but _saunters_ in and owns the room – Bethany craves all of this and more. She has a beauty that Bethany can't imagine carrying even as she looks up into that grinning, bronzed face.

Isabela trails a hand along Bethany's ribs and smooths her palm around the curve of her hip, finding where she's swollen and eager. She's a patient teacher and Bethany a willing pupil, Bela's motion against her causing a reflexive lift of her hips. There is a catch in her breath, and she bites her lip with a soft, stifled whine.

"This, kitten, is three." She flicks the outer edge of Bethany's ear with a playful tongue, and quickens the pace of her deft fingers, burying her face in the younger woman's neck sucking at the sensitive skin there. Her laughter is rich and she clearly enjoys giving pleasure as much as receiving it. She's had a long list of recipients, though at the moment Bethany doesn't think on it or care. Bela is pouring all of that experience and knowledge into making this memorable.

She doesn't know what to do with her hands, and every touch just feels almost _too_ good. It tightens her chest and makes her feel as if she is going to burst apart at the ribs. She bucks involuntarily, and hesitatingly draws a hand up, cupping Isabela's breast as if she's never really understood what to do with one before.

Bela throws her head back and laughs lightly. "There you go, sweetness," lowering her mouth she feathers her lips lightly over her collarbone and down between Bethany's breasts. "You've moved onto four, and four is _very_ … nice." She laves her tongue over a nipple, pulling back to breathe on it, making it peak tautly.

All the muscles in Bethany's back and stomach pull tightly and she arches upward, pressing her hips against Isabela's, grinding slowly and whimpering softly. Her free hand gropes around helplessly, grasping ahold of the linens, which promptly burst with a small flame.

"Oh, Maker, I …" she gasps, breaking her concentration, smacking at the flames with one hand. She props herself up on one elbow and snuffs it out, but her face is red and she hides it behind her fingers.

Bela laughs, brushing her fingers down the mage's bare arm and twining fingers with Bethany's own once the fire is extinguished. She laughs again but it is gentle and not mocking, lifting her chin with a single finger from her free hand.

"I'm going to venture a guess, kitten, and assume that means you are enjoying yourself," Bela purrs in her hear, low and lusty, catching her lips in a slow and tantalizing kiss. Her tongue darts along the inside of her lips.

She nods, resting her forehead briefly against Bela's, her breath hitched in her throat, then relaxing again. She twines a leg around Isabela's, who is still wearing her boots. She can't lie and say that she's never imagined how she looked exactly like that, the glory of curves and flesh over tight muscle and just _those boots_.

Bela guides Bethany's hand down with her own, placing her fingers where the pirate's had been just moments before. "You, sweetness, take care of this," she nearly hums, encouraging her to strum herself in circles. "And I will show you number five."

She gently slides in and explores her with one finger, and then another, curling them back towards herself. A sharp intake of breath escapes as Bethany writhes beneath her, pleading with her to do it faster, more. Isabela obliges, happily, for a time, then slows it out to an antagonizing and slow motion.

Bethany is half past the point of madness, aching for the release denied her. Swallowing back a cry she pulls magic to her fingers, walking a slight path of frost starting at Bela's collarbone, down past her navel and between her thighs.

Now it is Isabela's turn to groan throatily, a grin splitting her face. "Now we're getting creative," she tosses her head back and laughs with delight, her breasts bouncing with each breath, wide and open for Bethany to admire.

Bethany draws her tongue up between them, until she is smiling against the hollow of her throat. She inhales the scent of sandalwood and leather and sweat with a sweetness that she memorizes to carry with her later, when she will no doubt find her thoughts drifting back to this moment. Isabela's callused fingers graze back down her back and lock together over the ample rise of Bethany's rear, urging her back.

Bethany buries her fingers deep in the fullness of Bela's hair, pressing her mouth to hers with a need so urgent she fears she may cry. Thankfully she doesn't, because it would have meant missing what comes next. Bela's strong fingers linger slowly over Bethany's thigh, pulling one knee up and over her shoulder, her grip just tight enough to wring satisfied sounds from her.

"Six," Bela says slyly, parting her with fingers, the flat of her tongue lapping from where her fingers had been moments before up to her clit. She flicks with increasing rhythm, and it is like lightning arching from the point of contact up through Bethany. Her muscles clench, her nipples ache for attention, and Bethany gives it to them herself while she squirms and nearly pulls away. Bela holds tight, pushing her tongue as far as she can reach, then stroking with it steadily. Bethany opens her mouth and Bela's name spills mixed with desperate begging for it to not stop. At the same time she wants so much to fall over that edge into orgasm.

Then it comes, finally, her thighs squeezing together, and her voice breaking so loudly that she is sure they can hear her all the way down to the bar over the din of the drunks and clamor of the revelers. She doesn't care, and lets the ecstatic thrill wash over, the words of gratitude pour out of her until she is so wrung out that she collapses, shuddering violently, against the mattress, sweaty and panting.

Bela slides against her, curling her body around her and kissing her deeply with a booted knee between her slick thighs. Bethany can taste the tang of herself on the woman's mouth, and it makes her groan one more time.

"You're such a pretty thing, sweetness," Isabela purrs into Bethany's ear, letting the silken strands of her hair fall from her fingers. Bethany leans into it like a cat, the muzziness of her climax passing into a languid restfulness.

"That was … amazing," she sighs contentedly, eyes half lidded. "Do you know that?"

"Of course I do, sweet thing," she laughs confidently, resting her hand casually on a breast and getting her breathing back to normal. "With a little practice, you'll catch up," she says, her voice dripping with meaning. "Now, kitten, do you have any more questions requiring thorough answers?"

"Mmm, no," Bethany feels the heaviness of impending sleep weigh on her. "If I do, though, I'll ask."

"Good." Bela presses her lips and grins against her temple, before they drift off in a tangle of limbs. "You do that."


End file.
